Criminal Minds- My Side of the Story 2
Title: My Side of the Story 2/3
Author: mingsmommy
Rating: FRT/PG13 (will go up in later chapters)
Spoilers: Oh, let’s say everything through the current season. Except this past week’s episode. Forget you saw that.
Author's Notes: I actually started, then abandoned this story last summer. I picked it back up at the beginning of the year and finished it last week. I am grateful to smittywing for cheerleading and talking me over some hard parts, listening to me vent and telling me what was missing. Many, many thanks to smacky30 for the beta. And the cheerleading. And the general awesomeness. This wouldn’t be here without her.
By noon they've eliminated the majority of the perpetrators from the cases since Emily's been at the BAU. Most of them are either dead or in prison; the few that are free are either accounted for or have an alibi.
Garcia, looking very close to tears, asks, "What do we do now?"
Hotch answers, "Start over."
***
Around two, the head of the forensics detail going over Emily's place reports a small smear of blood on the underside of the front door knob. Tests show it's A negative, Emily's type.
“It isn't enough to cause a great deal of worry,” the team leader assures Hotch. "Could be something as simple as a paper cut. But it isn't very old."
They worry anyway.
***
Several security agents from the State Department grill Dave in a downstairs conference room for about three hours in the afternoon, but he's confident he's not a suspect. They're just trying to figure out if anything is out of the ordinary, if Emily could have been being watched by someone without either of them knowing.
They've received no ransom demands, either for money or political gain, but it still doesn't rule out political terrorism.
Dave doesn't know why, but the idea of that feels wrong to him. Even as little as they have to go on, this feels personal.
***
When the guys from the State Department let him go, he finds JJ in the conference room with the rest of the team and Ambassador Prentiss sorting through folders. Evidently, when the agents from Missing Persons had shown up at JJ's door, and she discovered Emily was missing, she grabbed a ride back to the BAU with them.
She hugs him, and he feels a slight quiver in her small frame. While he's grateful for the warmth (both physical and emotional) he wants to tell her, to beg her, not to cry.
The worry was for nothing, of course, because when she pulls back her eyes are moist, but there are no real tears.
From what he gathers, they've all spent a little time in the company of the gentlemen from the State Department. "Feels like they're grasping at straws," Morgan says, not looking up from his perusal of the file on Karl Arnold and the transcript of his interview with Hotch and Emily.
Dave doesn't think they're the only ones.
***
It's after eight when Morgan goes for take-out, and there are four stacks of files on the table: perpetrator deceased or incarcerated with no family or friends likely to seek revenge, perpetrator deceased or incarcerated with possible ties looking for revenge, perpetrator unknown/crime unsolved, and cases where Emily has offered a consult or expert testimony.
They've been through all of them, but they keep going back, looking for something, anything that might lead them to Emily.
***
"You didn't eat anything." Elizabeth Prentiss's voice is pitched low, a concession to Reid's slumped form on the other side of the table. Rossi knows Reid will likely wake in a couple of hours, refreshed from his nap but needing to work the kinks out of his back after sleeping in that position.
It's well after midnight, and JJ's gone home with a promise to be back in the morning, Hotch is following up with a detective from a case a couple of years ago in northern California, Garcia is in her lair searching for red flags from Emily's cases before she came to the BAU. Dave has no idea where Morgan's got to, but if he had to guess, from the look of frustration on Derek's face after the last dead-end, he'd say the gym or the closest punching bag.
Dave looks at her a little disbelievingly. "I'm not hungry."
"Neither am I nor, I imagine, are any of your colleagues." She looks pointedly at the half empty pizza boxes and several opened containers of Chinese food. "But sustenance is necessary if you intend to be of any use in finding Emily, or taking care of her when she's returned to us."
On the verge of barking that she's Emily's mother not his, he stops cold at the quirk of an eyebrow that, either genetic or learned, her daughter does equally as well. Instead, he swallows at the thickness in his throat and mumbles, "Yes, ma'am."
***
Reid is awake again, speeding through the files from Emily's time in Chicago, and Hotch has managed to talk the Ambassador into a short nap on a sofa in an empty office when Dave notes the time is 2:17.
It's been twenty-four hours since he awoke alone in his house, over thirty since he last heard from Emily.
It doesn't take an information dump from Reid, or a reminder from Missing Persons for Dave to remember what he learned the first day at the Academy: the majority of kidnapping victims are murdered within twenty-four hours of their abduction.
He reminds himself that Emily's tough and smart, and if anybody can defy the odds, she can.
"Hang on, Em," he whispers. "Hang on."
***
The first story breaks at 6:00 am.
They're not sure if the leak came from someone in Missing Persons or the State Department, but Sunday morning television is buzzing with the news of the apparent kidnapping of the daughter of Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss.
A small terrorist cell out of Afghanistan claims responsibility around nine-thirty. Just after ten an eco-terrorist group out of British Columbia sends a list of demands to the FBI promising Emily's release if their conditions are met. Neither provides photographic evidence, but Jordan Todd and Craig Windham from Counter-terrorism come in anyway.
By noon they've completely discounted the Afghani group as too small with too few resources to actually have done more than claim credit for Emily's kidnapping. The BC eco-terrorists aren't as easy to dismiss, but it's clear the agents don't believe they're responsible. Still, the team is good at what they do, and they're not leaving anything to chance.
***
The Ambassador and Hotch team up to bully Dave into lying down on the same sofa she used overnight. Even though he's sure he won't be able to sleep exhaustion gets the better of him, and he dreams of Emily.
A thousand different images are brought forward from his memories, tinged with the gossamer of dreams: Emily sleeping in bed beside him, sipping wine on the deck, cooking dinner in his kitchen, burning breakfast at her place. The images shift like an ever-turning kaleidoscope and finally coalesce into Emily in a bubble bath, a thousand candles lit around the room, tiny flames bouncing off the mirror. He's never been in this room before, yet he knows this is a bathroom in his own house. He’ll have to figure that out later though, because right now he only has eyes for Emily. All damp skin and big eyes, she's laughing, a low, sexy sound, and she flicks water at him. He drinks her in, afraid to touch. She's too beautiful to touch.
Distracted by the rise and fall of the bubbles as she shifts in the tub, he’s surprised when he looks back at her, and her nose is bleeding. "Em..." he says, reaching for her, but everything shifts. The candles are gone, butthe light is as bright as a hospital operating room. The bathtub isn't filled with bubbles, it's overflowing with blood, and Emily is gone.
He wakes, gasping.
***
It's only been a little over an hour, but it must have been enough to satisfy the others that he's had a little rest because no one comments when he comes back. JJ hands him a coffee from the last Starbuck's run. He accepts it gratefully, clearing his raw throat and asking, "What have we got?" as he takes a seat between Hotch and Garcia.
Morgan scrubs both of his hands down his face. "Nothing, we've got nothing." He doesn't even sound frustrated anymore; he just sounds tired.
They're all tired, Dave knows. They work a lot of late nights. They push themselves. But they always take some time. They break, they rest, and if they're lucky, they sleep. The only time they might not take such an opportunity is working a kidnapping, but usually if they don't find the victim within the first twenty-four hours, they start breaking at night, an unspoken nod to statistics.
Right now, it's been forty-six hours since anyone has heard from Emily, and no one's showing signs of wanting to go home. But when, Dave wonders, will they? At seventy-two hours? Ninety-six? When will Hotch go home to Jack? When will Morgan go home to sleep? When will Garcia search something other than Emily's cases, Emily's contacts?
There's a tremendous pressure in the middle of his chest at the idea of giving up in ninety-six hours or ninety-six days. He suddenly feels the time constraint more keenly than before. Not just the missing person's statistics, but the idea that these people are his best resources, his strength, his best shot at finding her, and he can't squander the time he has before any one of them gives up or moves on to something else. "If we don't have anything new, then let's go back to what we do have. The voice mail, the broken glass."
They're not officially working the case at all. They are just Emily's friends and co-workers gathered in a conference room, waiting on news, which allows JJ and the Ambassador to join them. Still, they’ve been given access to everything Missing Persons and Counter-Terrorism has. At least for right now, they're all here, they're all working it. They go over it again, from the beginning, only Hotch talks it out for them. "Emily didn't sound distressed in the voice mail. She didn't sound upset, though she did sound..."
"Awkward," Reid supplies. "She sounded like she was in a socially awkward situation, like it was strained, but she didn't sound fearful or even really upset."
Morgan shakes his head. "No code words or clues that anything was wrong. Whatever happened, she didn't know she was in danger when she made the call."
"That fits." JJ is tapping a pencil against a piece of paper, elbows on the table, and it's almost as if she never left. "If there wasn't any evidence that the locks had been forced, then it makes sense it was someone she knows, someone she's not afraid of."
"But not close to," Garcia adds. "I mean, Emily might be...well, with the people she knows, the people she loves she's not awkward or strained."
The Ambassador contributes a surprising and dry, "If only I could second that opinion."
Everyone in the room has an idea about Emily and her mother, and though it's no time for humor, the moment of lightness helps them all, Rossi knows. It's also a reminder that this is Emily; they know her, they love her, they all want her back.
"Okay," he says. "Somebody she knows, somebody that's not a threat, but no one she knows well." He looks around the table. "Who?"
"Neighbor?" JJ asks.
"They're all clean, and most of them have alibis." Garcia says, looking at her laptop's screen. "But I'm digging deeper."
"All right." Morgan leans forward. "Who else?"
"All of the people from her daily life; the guy at the dry cleaners, delivery people, the bagger at the grocery store." Reid looks at Rossi. "Could you make a list? Any place she would go on a regular basis."
Rossi rubs his eyes. "That's where it gets complicated. She's been spending more time at my place."
Reid nods. "Different geography, different set of people she would see on a regular basis." He tilts his head in Rossi's direction. "Maybe make two lists? The places she goes or orders from when she's at her place, and the ones she frequents when she's at yours?"
"Yeah, I can do that." It's a little thing but at least it's something to do.
"Are you honestly suggesting someone...a bag boy or a dry cleaning clerk could have done this? Taken Emily?" The Ambassador sounds incredulous.
"Ma'am." Morgan's voice is serious but courteous. "Obsessional crimes aren't limited to any particular type of person or socio-economic group. It could be the pizza delivery guy or an affluent shop owner. They could be generally obsessed, or they may have noticed they see her less frequently and feel as though they're losing her. Maybe it's the bagger at the grocery, and he noticed she bought men's razors, or the Chinese delivery guy saw Dave there one night... They could have been fixated on her for months or years and something simple set them off."
The Ambassador puts a hand to her forehead as though it aches. "It really could be anyone."
"Ambassador Prentiss..."" Hotch starts, but Elizabeth holds out a hand.
"Go on, it's... I'm fine." She takes a deep breath. "What else do we have?"
There's a pause before Reid supplies, "The blood."
JJ makes a dismissive noise, though Dave's not sure if she's really discounting it or if she's trying to minimize it for the Ambassador's sake. "They said it was just a trace. It could have been a drop or two on her finger from a paper cut or a nosebleed."
The word nosebleed brings back the image of Emily in the bathtub in his dream, making him shudder slightly. But it also tickles something in the back of his brain, Emily talking about a nosebleed. Before they were together. She'd told him about walking in the snow, and blood falling on a picture. It takes a minute, but it finally clicks. "Garcia." He doesn't care that he's interrupting a back and forth between JJ, Morgan and Reid about all the possible ways blood could have gotten on the door. "The priest with the Matthew Benton case, have you tracked him?"
"Matthew Benton case?" The Ambassador looks at Rossi, then Hotch. "What case?"
Garcia presses a few keys. "He's still in Italy. He actually hasn't been out of the country since he was deported from the United States."
"Matthew Benton died of natural causes," Elizabeth Prentiss says firmly.
Hotch and Dave share a look, then Hotch speaks. "The ME did determine that Matthew died of a heart attack, but there were circumstances surrounding his death that could be considered...unusual."
The Ambassador, already pale, seems to lose even more color. "What does that have to do with Emily?"
Surprisingly, it's Morgan who answers in a gentle voice. "Emily agreed to look into the case when another friend brought it to her attention. It was off the record, I don't think we ever opened a file on it."
"No, we didn't," Hotch agrees.
"Well?" Elizabeth looks around the room. "What did you find?"
"Matthew did die of a heart attack." Hotch's eyebrows are drawn together, but his tone is calm. "But it appears the heart attack was brought on by the strain of going through a...trauma." The look on the Ambassador's face is clear enough without words, so Hotch says it plainly. "An exorcism."
She gives a slight gasp. "An exorcism? That's ridiculous. I know Andrea is beyond devout, but Tom would never have allowed that."
Grimly, Morgan shakes his head. "Tom Benton was present for the exorcism."
"Dear God," she breathes. She puts a shaking hand to her mouth and blinks hard. "That explains...so much." She looks at Dave, her eyes wide and dark, looking so much like Emily it makes his heart ache. "The guilt from that would certainly be enough to drive someone to commit suicide wouldn't it?"
All attention in the room is focused on the Ambassador as Hotch asks carefully, "Who committed suicide?"
She frowns. "Tom Benton. Late last year. In the fall, just before Thanksgiving." Opening her hands she makes a gesture that is at once all-encompassing and helpless. "Considering what you've just told me Emily would have said something to you, surely."
Dave shakes his head. "Emily would have said something; but she didn't, so she didn't know."
Elizabeth reaches for her water bottle, frowning at the correction. "But she did know; she sent flowers. Andrea Benton called me a few weeks ago asking for Emily's address to send a thank you note."
The look on JJ's face is horrified. She's the first to get it after Hotch and Dave. But Reid, Morgan and Garcia have all heard the stories of Andrea Benton, and her hatred of Emily, how she blamed Emily for Matthew's drug use and instability, and it doesn't take them long to catch up. By the time Hotch says, "Garcia..." Penelope's fingers are already flying over the keys.
"I'm on it, sir. I am all over it."
Morgan is on his feet, "I'll let Missing Persons and Counter-Terrorism know."
"What? You'll let them know what?" The Ambassador is clearly confused and slightly alarmed.
"Damnit." Garcia snaps the laptop closed. "I need my system."
"Spence and I will come with you," JJ says, gathering Garcia's files.
Soon it's just Hotch, Rossi and Elizabeth Prentiss at the table.
"Would one of you gentlemen please tell me what is going on?"
Hotch looks at Dave, and Dave moves his chair slightly closer to the Ambassador. "Were you aware that Matthew Benton had a drug problem?"
Elizabeth frowned. "Yes. It was tragic to see someone so young and full of potential waste their life like that."
Dave nods his agreement. "The Bentons, especially Mrs. Benton, blamed Emily for Matthew’s troubles."
Drawing back as if she'd been slapped, Ambassador Prentiss protests, "That's ludicrous!"
"Yes, Ambassador, it is." Hotch laces his fingers together. "But she seemed to feel it was Emily's influence on Matthew when they were teenagers that started him down his self-destructive path."
"Why would she think that?" She looks from Hotch to Dave and back to Hotch again. "I'm sure Emily dabbled and experimented like most young people, but she never had a problem with substance abuse."
"I don't think it was about the drugs," Dave says softly.
"I don't really understand.” The Ambassador looks at Dave, then at Hotch and finally shakes her head. ”But you think Andrea Benton is the one who took Emily?"
Hotch looks as if he's searching for a cautious and non-commital answer, but Dave just says, "It's a place to look we hadn't thought of before; a lead we can follow. That's all we know for now." He touches her hand gently, his voice a calm reassurance. "It'll have to be enough."
All of that calm is shot to shit when he finds out Morgan is on a ride along with Missing Persons to the Benton home in Georgetown. "What the fuck, Hotch?"
"Dave, you know you couldn't go." They're in Hotch's office with the door closed, but Dave is reasonably sure everyone knows there's yelling going on.
He makes an effort to lower his voice to a more acceptable level. "I could have ridden along. I could have stayed in the car, just been there in case she was there."
Wearily, Hotch pinches the bridge of his nose. "Things are precarious as it is, Dave. They were already on the road by the time Morgan called."
Dave doesn't doubt it for a minute, but it's not like he has a lot of patience right now. He reminds himself they all care about Emily and losing his temper isn’t going to help. Looking at Hotch’s face, he sees the dark circles under his eyes and the lines around his mouth and he remembers he’s not the only one worried, he’s not the only one that cares. His shoulders slump and his voice is scratchy as he says, "Aaron, I'm sorry."
"It's hard for all of us, Dave." Hotch sits at his desk and motions for Dave to sit.
Dave is sure that's true. They're family, all of them, but he's never known this kind of pain, this kind of fear. "I don't know what I'd do without her."
"I hope you won't---" Hotch's cell phone rings, and he answers immediately. "Hotchner."
He listens, his brows drawing tighter and tighter together. "All right. I'll put Garcia on it." He doesn't bother telling Dave what's going on, just picks up the office phone and dials. "Garcia. I just heard from Morgan. The Benton townhouse is empty. Furniture's covered. No utilities. The neighbors said Mrs. Benton closed it up and moved out shortly after her husband killed himself. Do a search for any new purchases or secondary residences in either of the Bentons' names, look for forwarding addresses."
After all the hours of waiting, all the time with no action, no suspects, no clue, now things begin moving at a ridiculously fast pace. Before Dave can fully comprehend what's happening, he's in the back of an SUV with the Ambassador headed towards a remote cabin on the edge of a nature preserve outside of Leesburg. A third property, a condominium in Silver Springs that had been Matthew's, has been listed as Andrea Benton's forwarding address since late last year, but the utilities had been disconnected a week earlier. Besides, they all know if she has Emily, she doesn't have her in a two bedroom condo surrounded by neighbors. The cabin, on the other hand, seems like it would be very well suited to holding someone against their will.
After Garcia hacks Mrs. Benton’s credit card account and finds recent purchases at a hardware store (rope, various hooks, fireplace implements) and a sporting goods store (ammunition for a .38 and a large hunting knife), they don’t wait for an okay or a warrant, they just move.
The ride is excruciating, even with lights and sirens. Hotch and JJ are in the front, and Garcia, who insisted on coming along, is in the third row seat. Theirs is the third in a line of three Bureau SUVs flying along the state highways of Virginia. The majority of the team from Missing Persons is in the first vehicle, and the remainder of their team, along with Morgan and Reid, are riding in the second SUV. With the exception of the Ambassador, JJ and Garcia, everyone is wearing a vest and is armed.
Hands gripping the wheel tightly, Hotch throws a quick look over his shoulder. "None of you are authorized to leave this vehicle. Stay inside, keep the doors closed." Ostensibly, he's speaking to all his passengers, but Dave knows the heat and heart of it is directed at him. "We don't know for sure that Andrea Benton is the one who kidnapped Emily, and we're even less sure she's here." Dave thinks that's pushing it; they might not have any hard evidence, but Garcia had hacked to records of the local electric company and found the cabin had gone from almost no electric usage to significant usage in power over the last few days. Besides, all of their instincts have been screaming on high alert since Andrea Benton's name surfaced.
Dave knows none of them should be along; they're only here because the head of Missing Persons is willing to look the other way, and Hotch knows all too keenly what kind of anguish this is. And, frankly, Hotch has probably guessed that, had he not been allowed the ride along, Dave would simply have gotten in his car and followed. Still, he's grateful, and he'll play by the rules until he has a reason not to.
Garcia, still clicking away on a laptop, speaks up. "I've got us wired in to the radio. We'll be able to hear what's happening without ever setting foot on the ground." Hotch frowns in the rear-view mirror, as if he's not quite sure how he feels about that, but Dave silently blesses Garcia and tells himself he will buy her something shiny, expensive and gaudy when Emily is home, safe and sound. Hotch should thank her; it might be the one thing that keeps him in the car.
Two miles out they kill the sirens. A local police cruiser sits beside the ambulance they'd called for, both silent, lights off, 500 yards from the drive-way leading on to the property. The line of SUVs kills their flashing lights and pulls to a stop. Hotch, Morgan and two of the agents from Missing Persons step to the cruiser, and a short conference ensues. Everyone watches as the local begins gesturing toward the driveway.
"What are they saying?" Elizabeth Prentiss asks, impatiently.
"They don't have their radios on yet," Garcia says fretfully. "I don't know."
JJ never takes her eyes off the group. Like Dave, she watches the hand motions and what she can see of facial expressions in the glow of the headlights. Not for nothing is her forte communications. Her next comment makes it obvious she learned a lot in her years working with profilers. "I'd guess the local is giving them the lay of the land. He may even have been up to check the cabin from a distance."
In the distance, from the other direction, Dave sees the approach of three more local units, lights flashing, but no sirens. They pull up behind the first unit then join the conference. After what seems like an eternity, the group disperses, everyone walking back to their vehicles.
Hotch is talking as soon as he opens the door. "The cabin is about a half mile from the road. They did some long range surveillance and don't see any movement inside. There are lights on, Andrea Benton's car is there, but there's no sign of anyone in the windows."
The two other Bureau SUVs start slowly up the drive then the four local cruisers follow, with their SUV, obviously by design, bringing up the rear. JJ looks at Hotch. "Do we have probable cause?"
Hotch shakes his head. "No."
"How are you going to get in?"
Grim is a look they've seen Hotch wear too many times to count, but this time there's an edge of determination to it. His very expression is enough to say he has already seen too many losses, and another will not be tolerated. "I don't care. We'll figure it out."
Dave's stomach is rolling and his heart is beating faster than he ever thought possible. He had no idea he was capable of this type of fear, and he silently acknowledges it's a good thing he can't go in there with the rest of them. The line of cars spreads out as they approach the cabin, arcing around the front.
The radio crackles as the first local gets out of his cruiser, and Agent Morrison, from Missing Persons, exits his SUV. "We're just going to see if Mrs. Benton is home." The local unsnaps his weapon; Morrison unholsters his and hugs the wall. They nod at each other, and the local knocks on the door. The wait feels interminable before he knocks again; still, no response.
The radio catches, hums, and the local says, "I can hear music...church music, but not hymns." The voice is tinny through the computer's small speaker.
"Chanting," Morrison supplies.
Dave swallows bile. She's in there. Emily is in there. He wonders what she's suffered at Andrea Benton's hands over the last few days. He prays she's still alive.
Hotch speaks into the mic at his cuff. "Ambassador Prentiss is a friend of Mrs. Benton. She has expressed concern over her health and well-being. Since she's not answering the door, she may be ill or injured; I think we need to check."
Morrison makes a forward motion, and the officers and agents pour out of vehicles like ants out of an overturned hill. "Very good."
Whether this probable cause will stand up in court is debatable, and Dave doesn't really care. All he does care about is Emily.
Hotch turns as he's exiting the SUV and nails him with a glare. "I will call for you when it's clear. Do not set foot out of this vehicle until then."
Dave holds up both hands in a gesture of surrender. Hotch turns and joins the others on the porch.
The entry is quiet, orderly and by the book. The radio channel is open now, and everything spills out into the air between the four of them. The Ambassador's eyes are clenched, and her lips are moving in silent prayer, her fingers moving as though holding an invisible rosary. JJ is watching the sound wave representation on the computer screen, and Garcia is watching Dave. He turns from her gaze and stares at the cabin, imagining their movements as they go through each room, as each different voice calls, "Clear!"
"What's that smell?" from a voice he doesn't know comes across seconds before Morgan says with some urgency, "There's a basement."
Fuck. Basements are a nightmare in a hostage situation. They can be dark, have places to hide, house all kinds of nasty surprises. The victim could be alive when you start down the stairs and dead by the time you get to the bottom. Morgan calls "FBI!" and there's a woman's cry (Dave heart jumps, but he's not sure if it's in fear or hope) and the sound of ten people thundering down a set of stairs.
"Jesus." Another voice he doesn't know.
Then Morgan speaks calmly, and Dave can picture him, arm extended, weapon drawn, still trying to appear non-threatening. "Drop the knife, ma'am."
"No. No!" It's a woman's voice. Dave doubts he would recognize Andrea Benton's voice if he heard it again, but he knows this doesn't sound the same as the reserved, elegant woman he'd met almost two years ago. This voice barely sounds human.
"Mrs. Benton?" Morgan must receive some confirmation that it is indeed Andrea Benton he's speaking to. "Mrs. Benton, hurting Emily isn't going to bring your son or your husband back."
"She's alive." JJ's voice is shaking and so are Ambassador Prentiss's hands.
"No! You don't understand. She's evil." There's something that sounds like a sob, but Dave doesn't know if it's from the Benton woman or from Emily.
"I knew...in Italy, I knew she was a bad influence. The things she made Matthew do! I pretended not to know, but I knew! I knew!"
"Mrs. Benton." Hotch's voice firm, unemotional. "Put down the knife."
"See? See? She has you all fooled. Under a spell." There's a fervor that borders on hysteria in the woman's voice. "I thought, I thought---I made a mistake...I thought she was just bad. I didn't know she was evil, didn't know she was a demon." Her voice shakes and Dave's sure he can hear rasping breathing and the rustle of an FBI jacket against a bullet-proof vest. "But then she let her evil into Matthew, and the demon killed him and then it ate at Tom...whispered in his ear and made him doubt himself." She cries out, voice anguished. "It made him commit the one unforgivable sin." She lets out a wracking sob. "She killed Matthew, and she sent Tom to Hell. She's a demon, evil. I can't let her stay...she has to go back to Hell."
"Mrs. Benton, I don't want to hurt you." Morgan's voice is gentle, almost pleading. "Please put down the knife."
"No!" There's another cry, Dave thinks it must be from Emily, then Andrea Benton screams and there are at least two gunshots.
Dave reaches blindly for the door handle, but it doesn't budge.
"Suspect down!"
"Rossi! You have to wait for Hotch to give the signal." JJ's voice is very far away, but Dave looks up at her and it occurs to him that Hotch has used the protective locks on the back doors.
There's a riot of noise over the radio, including the call for the ambulance and a request for a second bus.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" He yells and reaches for his weapon, briefly considering shooting the window out.
"Calm down." JJ stops him before he can use his gun to break the glass. She looks stricken, upset and a little afraid. "Emily is alive. Andrea Benton is down."
Then he hears Emily's voice, weak and shaky. "Take a picture."
Hotch, incredulous, asks, "What?"
"Before you cut the ropes...take a picture." He hears her swallow. "To prove it's a clean shoot."
"JJ," Hotch says, "let Dave out. The rest of you stay put."
The locks thump open, and he's out of the car and up on the porch as the ambulance pulls into the yard. The cabin is picture perfect, something meant to give the feel of rustic, but modern and decorated with gleaming wood and overstuffed chairs. Though instead of some designer fragrance from Yankee candle, there's the scent of burning hair and seared flesh.
Instinct leads him straight to the stairs and down to Emily.
She's sitting on the basement floor, supported by Morgan while Hotch works at cutting the ropes around her wrists. Her face is bruised; different shades of red and purple cover both her cheeks and surround her left eye. Her lips are cracked and bleeding. Her hair has been...cut is the wrong word...hacked off seems to describe it best; it's different lengths all over her head, scraggly and uneven. There's a thin ribbon of blood trickling down her neck and a blackened spot on her blouse that appears to be stuck to blackened skin beneath.
The ropes give, and she takes a shaky breath as she flexes her wrists. Rope burns are red and angry against her fair skin. She looks up as the EMTs clamber down the stairs with the stretcher and sees him standing there. "Hey."
He swallows, hoping to push the lump in his throat away, but there's no room for it, his chest is too full of his heart, so the word comes out raspy and shaky when he replies, "Hey."
"Sorry I missed dinner." Her smile is weak, but she holds up her wrists. "I got tied up."
Then he's on the floor with her, gathering her close, but carefully. He meant to comfort her, but she's the one whispering "It's okay, it's okay," as he cries in to what's left of her hair, and Hotch quietly guides everyone away from their intimate little huddle.
TBC...
Author: mingsmommy
Rating: FRT/PG13 (will go up in later chapters)
Spoilers: Oh, let’s say everything through the current season. Except this past week’s episode. Forget you saw that.
Author's Notes: I actually started, then abandoned this story last summer. I picked it back up at the beginning of the year and finished it last week. I am grateful to smittywing for cheerleading and talking me over some hard parts, listening to me vent and telling me what was missing. Many, many thanks to smacky30 for the beta. And the cheerleading. And the general awesomeness. This wouldn’t be here without her.
By noon they've eliminated the majority of the perpetrators from the cases since Emily's been at the BAU. Most of them are either dead or in prison; the few that are free are either accounted for or have an alibi.
Garcia, looking very close to tears, asks, "What do we do now?"
Hotch answers, "Start over."
***
Around two, the head of the forensics detail going over Emily's place reports a small smear of blood on the underside of the front door knob. Tests show it's A negative, Emily's type.
“It isn't enough to cause a great deal of worry,” the team leader assures Hotch. "Could be something as simple as a paper cut. But it isn't very old."
They worry anyway.
***
Several security agents from the State Department grill Dave in a downstairs conference room for about three hours in the afternoon, but he's confident he's not a suspect. They're just trying to figure out if anything is out of the ordinary, if Emily could have been being watched by someone without either of them knowing.
They've received no ransom demands, either for money or political gain, but it still doesn't rule out political terrorism.
Dave doesn't know why, but the idea of that feels wrong to him. Even as little as they have to go on, this feels personal.
***
When the guys from the State Department let him go, he finds JJ in the conference room with the rest of the team and Ambassador Prentiss sorting through folders. Evidently, when the agents from Missing Persons had shown up at JJ's door, and she discovered Emily was missing, she grabbed a ride back to the BAU with them.
She hugs him, and he feels a slight quiver in her small frame. While he's grateful for the warmth (both physical and emotional) he wants to tell her, to beg her, not to cry.
The worry was for nothing, of course, because when she pulls back her eyes are moist, but there are no real tears.
From what he gathers, they've all spent a little time in the company of the gentlemen from the State Department. "Feels like they're grasping at straws," Morgan says, not looking up from his perusal of the file on Karl Arnold and the transcript of his interview with Hotch and Emily.
Dave doesn't think they're the only ones.
***
It's after eight when Morgan goes for take-out, and there are four stacks of files on the table: perpetrator deceased or incarcerated with no family or friends likely to seek revenge, perpetrator deceased or incarcerated with possible ties looking for revenge, perpetrator unknown/crime unsolved, and cases where Emily has offered a consult or expert testimony.
They've been through all of them, but they keep going back, looking for something, anything that might lead them to Emily.
***
"You didn't eat anything." Elizabeth Prentiss's voice is pitched low, a concession to Reid's slumped form on the other side of the table. Rossi knows Reid will likely wake in a couple of hours, refreshed from his nap but needing to work the kinks out of his back after sleeping in that position.
It's well after midnight, and JJ's gone home with a promise to be back in the morning, Hotch is following up with a detective from a case a couple of years ago in northern California, Garcia is in her lair searching for red flags from Emily's cases before she came to the BAU. Dave has no idea where Morgan's got to, but if he had to guess, from the look of frustration on Derek's face after the last dead-end, he'd say the gym or the closest punching bag.
Dave looks at her a little disbelievingly. "I'm not hungry."
"Neither am I nor, I imagine, are any of your colleagues." She looks pointedly at the half empty pizza boxes and several opened containers of Chinese food. "But sustenance is necessary if you intend to be of any use in finding Emily, or taking care of her when she's returned to us."
On the verge of barking that she's Emily's mother not his, he stops cold at the quirk of an eyebrow that, either genetic or learned, her daughter does equally as well. Instead, he swallows at the thickness in his throat and mumbles, "Yes, ma'am."
***
Reid is awake again, speeding through the files from Emily's time in Chicago, and Hotch has managed to talk the Ambassador into a short nap on a sofa in an empty office when Dave notes the time is 2:17.
It's been twenty-four hours since he awoke alone in his house, over thirty since he last heard from Emily.
It doesn't take an information dump from Reid, or a reminder from Missing Persons for Dave to remember what he learned the first day at the Academy: the majority of kidnapping victims are murdered within twenty-four hours of their abduction.
He reminds himself that Emily's tough and smart, and if anybody can defy the odds, she can.
"Hang on, Em," he whispers. "Hang on."
***
The first story breaks at 6:00 am.
They're not sure if the leak came from someone in Missing Persons or the State Department, but Sunday morning television is buzzing with the news of the apparent kidnapping of the daughter of Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss.
A small terrorist cell out of Afghanistan claims responsibility around nine-thirty. Just after ten an eco-terrorist group out of British Columbia sends a list of demands to the FBI promising Emily's release if their conditions are met. Neither provides photographic evidence, but Jordan Todd and Craig Windham from Counter-terrorism come in anyway.
By noon they've completely discounted the Afghani group as too small with too few resources to actually have done more than claim credit for Emily's kidnapping. The BC eco-terrorists aren't as easy to dismiss, but it's clear the agents don't believe they're responsible. Still, the team is good at what they do, and they're not leaving anything to chance.
***
The Ambassador and Hotch team up to bully Dave into lying down on the same sofa she used overnight. Even though he's sure he won't be able to sleep exhaustion gets the better of him, and he dreams of Emily.
A thousand different images are brought forward from his memories, tinged with the gossamer of dreams: Emily sleeping in bed beside him, sipping wine on the deck, cooking dinner in his kitchen, burning breakfast at her place. The images shift like an ever-turning kaleidoscope and finally coalesce into Emily in a bubble bath, a thousand candles lit around the room, tiny flames bouncing off the mirror. He's never been in this room before, yet he knows this is a bathroom in his own house. He’ll have to figure that out later though, because right now he only has eyes for Emily. All damp skin and big eyes, she's laughing, a low, sexy sound, and she flicks water at him. He drinks her in, afraid to touch. She's too beautiful to touch.
Distracted by the rise and fall of the bubbles as she shifts in the tub, he’s surprised when he looks back at her, and her nose is bleeding. "Em..." he says, reaching for her, but everything shifts. The candles are gone, butthe light is as bright as a hospital operating room. The bathtub isn't filled with bubbles, it's overflowing with blood, and Emily is gone.
He wakes, gasping.
***
It's only been a little over an hour, but it must have been enough to satisfy the others that he's had a little rest because no one comments when he comes back. JJ hands him a coffee from the last Starbuck's run. He accepts it gratefully, clearing his raw throat and asking, "What have we got?" as he takes a seat between Hotch and Garcia.
Morgan scrubs both of his hands down his face. "Nothing, we've got nothing." He doesn't even sound frustrated anymore; he just sounds tired.
They're all tired, Dave knows. They work a lot of late nights. They push themselves. But they always take some time. They break, they rest, and if they're lucky, they sleep. The only time they might not take such an opportunity is working a kidnapping, but usually if they don't find the victim within the first twenty-four hours, they start breaking at night, an unspoken nod to statistics.
Right now, it's been forty-six hours since anyone has heard from Emily, and no one's showing signs of wanting to go home. But when, Dave wonders, will they? At seventy-two hours? Ninety-six? When will Hotch go home to Jack? When will Morgan go home to sleep? When will Garcia search something other than Emily's cases, Emily's contacts?
There's a tremendous pressure in the middle of his chest at the idea of giving up in ninety-six hours or ninety-six days. He suddenly feels the time constraint more keenly than before. Not just the missing person's statistics, but the idea that these people are his best resources, his strength, his best shot at finding her, and he can't squander the time he has before any one of them gives up or moves on to something else. "If we don't have anything new, then let's go back to what we do have. The voice mail, the broken glass."
They're not officially working the case at all. They are just Emily's friends and co-workers gathered in a conference room, waiting on news, which allows JJ and the Ambassador to join them. Still, they’ve been given access to everything Missing Persons and Counter-Terrorism has. At least for right now, they're all here, they're all working it. They go over it again, from the beginning, only Hotch talks it out for them. "Emily didn't sound distressed in the voice mail. She didn't sound upset, though she did sound..."
"Awkward," Reid supplies. "She sounded like she was in a socially awkward situation, like it was strained, but she didn't sound fearful or even really upset."
Morgan shakes his head. "No code words or clues that anything was wrong. Whatever happened, she didn't know she was in danger when she made the call."
"That fits." JJ is tapping a pencil against a piece of paper, elbows on the table, and it's almost as if she never left. "If there wasn't any evidence that the locks had been forced, then it makes sense it was someone she knows, someone she's not afraid of."
"But not close to," Garcia adds. "I mean, Emily might be...well, with the people she knows, the people she loves she's not awkward or strained."
The Ambassador contributes a surprising and dry, "If only I could second that opinion."
Everyone in the room has an idea about Emily and her mother, and though it's no time for humor, the moment of lightness helps them all, Rossi knows. It's also a reminder that this is Emily; they know her, they love her, they all want her back.
"Okay," he says. "Somebody she knows, somebody that's not a threat, but no one she knows well." He looks around the table. "Who?"
"Neighbor?" JJ asks.
"They're all clean, and most of them have alibis." Garcia says, looking at her laptop's screen. "But I'm digging deeper."
"All right." Morgan leans forward. "Who else?"
"All of the people from her daily life; the guy at the dry cleaners, delivery people, the bagger at the grocery store." Reid looks at Rossi. "Could you make a list? Any place she would go on a regular basis."
Rossi rubs his eyes. "That's where it gets complicated. She's been spending more time at my place."
Reid nods. "Different geography, different set of people she would see on a regular basis." He tilts his head in Rossi's direction. "Maybe make two lists? The places she goes or orders from when she's at her place, and the ones she frequents when she's at yours?"
"Yeah, I can do that." It's a little thing but at least it's something to do.
"Are you honestly suggesting someone...a bag boy or a dry cleaning clerk could have done this? Taken Emily?" The Ambassador sounds incredulous.
"Ma'am." Morgan's voice is serious but courteous. "Obsessional crimes aren't limited to any particular type of person or socio-economic group. It could be the pizza delivery guy or an affluent shop owner. They could be generally obsessed, or they may have noticed they see her less frequently and feel as though they're losing her. Maybe it's the bagger at the grocery, and he noticed she bought men's razors, or the Chinese delivery guy saw Dave there one night... They could have been fixated on her for months or years and something simple set them off."
The Ambassador puts a hand to her forehead as though it aches. "It really could be anyone."
"Ambassador Prentiss..."" Hotch starts, but Elizabeth holds out a hand.
"Go on, it's... I'm fine." She takes a deep breath. "What else do we have?"
There's a pause before Reid supplies, "The blood."
JJ makes a dismissive noise, though Dave's not sure if she's really discounting it or if she's trying to minimize it for the Ambassador's sake. "They said it was just a trace. It could have been a drop or two on her finger from a paper cut or a nosebleed."
The word nosebleed brings back the image of Emily in the bathtub in his dream, making him shudder slightly. But it also tickles something in the back of his brain, Emily talking about a nosebleed. Before they were together. She'd told him about walking in the snow, and blood falling on a picture. It takes a minute, but it finally clicks. "Garcia." He doesn't care that he's interrupting a back and forth between JJ, Morgan and Reid about all the possible ways blood could have gotten on the door. "The priest with the Matthew Benton case, have you tracked him?"
"Matthew Benton case?" The Ambassador looks at Rossi, then Hotch. "What case?"
Garcia presses a few keys. "He's still in Italy. He actually hasn't been out of the country since he was deported from the United States."
"Matthew Benton died of natural causes," Elizabeth Prentiss says firmly.
Hotch and Dave share a look, then Hotch speaks. "The ME did determine that Matthew died of a heart attack, but there were circumstances surrounding his death that could be considered...unusual."
The Ambassador, already pale, seems to lose even more color. "What does that have to do with Emily?"
Surprisingly, it's Morgan who answers in a gentle voice. "Emily agreed to look into the case when another friend brought it to her attention. It was off the record, I don't think we ever opened a file on it."
"No, we didn't," Hotch agrees.
"Well?" Elizabeth looks around the room. "What did you find?"
"Matthew did die of a heart attack." Hotch's eyebrows are drawn together, but his tone is calm. "But it appears the heart attack was brought on by the strain of going through a...trauma." The look on the Ambassador's face is clear enough without words, so Hotch says it plainly. "An exorcism."
She gives a slight gasp. "An exorcism? That's ridiculous. I know Andrea is beyond devout, but Tom would never have allowed that."
Grimly, Morgan shakes his head. "Tom Benton was present for the exorcism."
"Dear God," she breathes. She puts a shaking hand to her mouth and blinks hard. "That explains...so much." She looks at Dave, her eyes wide and dark, looking so much like Emily it makes his heart ache. "The guilt from that would certainly be enough to drive someone to commit suicide wouldn't it?"
All attention in the room is focused on the Ambassador as Hotch asks carefully, "Who committed suicide?"
She frowns. "Tom Benton. Late last year. In the fall, just before Thanksgiving." Opening her hands she makes a gesture that is at once all-encompassing and helpless. "Considering what you've just told me Emily would have said something to you, surely."
Dave shakes his head. "Emily would have said something; but she didn't, so she didn't know."
Elizabeth reaches for her water bottle, frowning at the correction. "But she did know; she sent flowers. Andrea Benton called me a few weeks ago asking for Emily's address to send a thank you note."
The look on JJ's face is horrified. She's the first to get it after Hotch and Dave. But Reid, Morgan and Garcia have all heard the stories of Andrea Benton, and her hatred of Emily, how she blamed Emily for Matthew's drug use and instability, and it doesn't take them long to catch up. By the time Hotch says, "Garcia..." Penelope's fingers are already flying over the keys.
"I'm on it, sir. I am all over it."
Morgan is on his feet, "I'll let Missing Persons and Counter-Terrorism know."
"What? You'll let them know what?" The Ambassador is clearly confused and slightly alarmed.
"Damnit." Garcia snaps the laptop closed. "I need my system."
"Spence and I will come with you," JJ says, gathering Garcia's files.
Soon it's just Hotch, Rossi and Elizabeth Prentiss at the table.
"Would one of you gentlemen please tell me what is going on?"
Hotch looks at Dave, and Dave moves his chair slightly closer to the Ambassador. "Were you aware that Matthew Benton had a drug problem?"
Elizabeth frowned. "Yes. It was tragic to see someone so young and full of potential waste their life like that."
Dave nods his agreement. "The Bentons, especially Mrs. Benton, blamed Emily for Matthew’s troubles."
Drawing back as if she'd been slapped, Ambassador Prentiss protests, "That's ludicrous!"
"Yes, Ambassador, it is." Hotch laces his fingers together. "But she seemed to feel it was Emily's influence on Matthew when they were teenagers that started him down his self-destructive path."
"Why would she think that?" She looks from Hotch to Dave and back to Hotch again. "I'm sure Emily dabbled and experimented like most young people, but she never had a problem with substance abuse."
"I don't think it was about the drugs," Dave says softly.
"I don't really understand.” The Ambassador looks at Dave, then at Hotch and finally shakes her head. ”But you think Andrea Benton is the one who took Emily?"
Hotch looks as if he's searching for a cautious and non-commital answer, but Dave just says, "It's a place to look we hadn't thought of before; a lead we can follow. That's all we know for now." He touches her hand gently, his voice a calm reassurance. "It'll have to be enough."
All of that calm is shot to shit when he finds out Morgan is on a ride along with Missing Persons to the Benton home in Georgetown. "What the fuck, Hotch?"
"Dave, you know you couldn't go." They're in Hotch's office with the door closed, but Dave is reasonably sure everyone knows there's yelling going on.
He makes an effort to lower his voice to a more acceptable level. "I could have ridden along. I could have stayed in the car, just been there in case she was there."
Wearily, Hotch pinches the bridge of his nose. "Things are precarious as it is, Dave. They were already on the road by the time Morgan called."
Dave doesn't doubt it for a minute, but it's not like he has a lot of patience right now. He reminds himself they all care about Emily and losing his temper isn’t going to help. Looking at Hotch’s face, he sees the dark circles under his eyes and the lines around his mouth and he remembers he’s not the only one worried, he’s not the only one that cares. His shoulders slump and his voice is scratchy as he says, "Aaron, I'm sorry."
"It's hard for all of us, Dave." Hotch sits at his desk and motions for Dave to sit.
Dave is sure that's true. They're family, all of them, but he's never known this kind of pain, this kind of fear. "I don't know what I'd do without her."
"I hope you won't---" Hotch's cell phone rings, and he answers immediately. "Hotchner."
He listens, his brows drawing tighter and tighter together. "All right. I'll put Garcia on it." He doesn't bother telling Dave what's going on, just picks up the office phone and dials. "Garcia. I just heard from Morgan. The Benton townhouse is empty. Furniture's covered. No utilities. The neighbors said Mrs. Benton closed it up and moved out shortly after her husband killed himself. Do a search for any new purchases or secondary residences in either of the Bentons' names, look for forwarding addresses."
After all the hours of waiting, all the time with no action, no suspects, no clue, now things begin moving at a ridiculously fast pace. Before Dave can fully comprehend what's happening, he's in the back of an SUV with the Ambassador headed towards a remote cabin on the edge of a nature preserve outside of Leesburg. A third property, a condominium in Silver Springs that had been Matthew's, has been listed as Andrea Benton's forwarding address since late last year, but the utilities had been disconnected a week earlier. Besides, they all know if she has Emily, she doesn't have her in a two bedroom condo surrounded by neighbors. The cabin, on the other hand, seems like it would be very well suited to holding someone against their will.
After Garcia hacks Mrs. Benton’s credit card account and finds recent purchases at a hardware store (rope, various hooks, fireplace implements) and a sporting goods store (ammunition for a .38 and a large hunting knife), they don’t wait for an okay or a warrant, they just move.
The ride is excruciating, even with lights and sirens. Hotch and JJ are in the front, and Garcia, who insisted on coming along, is in the third row seat. Theirs is the third in a line of three Bureau SUVs flying along the state highways of Virginia. The majority of the team from Missing Persons is in the first vehicle, and the remainder of their team, along with Morgan and Reid, are riding in the second SUV. With the exception of the Ambassador, JJ and Garcia, everyone is wearing a vest and is armed.
Hands gripping the wheel tightly, Hotch throws a quick look over his shoulder. "None of you are authorized to leave this vehicle. Stay inside, keep the doors closed." Ostensibly, he's speaking to all his passengers, but Dave knows the heat and heart of it is directed at him. "We don't know for sure that Andrea Benton is the one who kidnapped Emily, and we're even less sure she's here." Dave thinks that's pushing it; they might not have any hard evidence, but Garcia had hacked to records of the local electric company and found the cabin had gone from almost no electric usage to significant usage in power over the last few days. Besides, all of their instincts have been screaming on high alert since Andrea Benton's name surfaced.
Dave knows none of them should be along; they're only here because the head of Missing Persons is willing to look the other way, and Hotch knows all too keenly what kind of anguish this is. And, frankly, Hotch has probably guessed that, had he not been allowed the ride along, Dave would simply have gotten in his car and followed. Still, he's grateful, and he'll play by the rules until he has a reason not to.
Garcia, still clicking away on a laptop, speaks up. "I've got us wired in to the radio. We'll be able to hear what's happening without ever setting foot on the ground." Hotch frowns in the rear-view mirror, as if he's not quite sure how he feels about that, but Dave silently blesses Garcia and tells himself he will buy her something shiny, expensive and gaudy when Emily is home, safe and sound. Hotch should thank her; it might be the one thing that keeps him in the car.
Two miles out they kill the sirens. A local police cruiser sits beside the ambulance they'd called for, both silent, lights off, 500 yards from the drive-way leading on to the property. The line of SUVs kills their flashing lights and pulls to a stop. Hotch, Morgan and two of the agents from Missing Persons step to the cruiser, and a short conference ensues. Everyone watches as the local begins gesturing toward the driveway.
"What are they saying?" Elizabeth Prentiss asks, impatiently.
"They don't have their radios on yet," Garcia says fretfully. "I don't know."
JJ never takes her eyes off the group. Like Dave, she watches the hand motions and what she can see of facial expressions in the glow of the headlights. Not for nothing is her forte communications. Her next comment makes it obvious she learned a lot in her years working with profilers. "I'd guess the local is giving them the lay of the land. He may even have been up to check the cabin from a distance."
In the distance, from the other direction, Dave sees the approach of three more local units, lights flashing, but no sirens. They pull up behind the first unit then join the conference. After what seems like an eternity, the group disperses, everyone walking back to their vehicles.
Hotch is talking as soon as he opens the door. "The cabin is about a half mile from the road. They did some long range surveillance and don't see any movement inside. There are lights on, Andrea Benton's car is there, but there's no sign of anyone in the windows."
The two other Bureau SUVs start slowly up the drive then the four local cruisers follow, with their SUV, obviously by design, bringing up the rear. JJ looks at Hotch. "Do we have probable cause?"
Hotch shakes his head. "No."
"How are you going to get in?"
Grim is a look they've seen Hotch wear too many times to count, but this time there's an edge of determination to it. His very expression is enough to say he has already seen too many losses, and another will not be tolerated. "I don't care. We'll figure it out."
Dave's stomach is rolling and his heart is beating faster than he ever thought possible. He had no idea he was capable of this type of fear, and he silently acknowledges it's a good thing he can't go in there with the rest of them. The line of cars spreads out as they approach the cabin, arcing around the front.
The radio crackles as the first local gets out of his cruiser, and Agent Morrison, from Missing Persons, exits his SUV. "We're just going to see if Mrs. Benton is home." The local unsnaps his weapon; Morrison unholsters his and hugs the wall. They nod at each other, and the local knocks on the door. The wait feels interminable before he knocks again; still, no response.
The radio catches, hums, and the local says, "I can hear music...church music, but not hymns." The voice is tinny through the computer's small speaker.
"Chanting," Morrison supplies.
Dave swallows bile. She's in there. Emily is in there. He wonders what she's suffered at Andrea Benton's hands over the last few days. He prays she's still alive.
Hotch speaks into the mic at his cuff. "Ambassador Prentiss is a friend of Mrs. Benton. She has expressed concern over her health and well-being. Since she's not answering the door, she may be ill or injured; I think we need to check."
Morrison makes a forward motion, and the officers and agents pour out of vehicles like ants out of an overturned hill. "Very good."
Whether this probable cause will stand up in court is debatable, and Dave doesn't really care. All he does care about is Emily.
Hotch turns as he's exiting the SUV and nails him with a glare. "I will call for you when it's clear. Do not set foot out of this vehicle until then."
Dave holds up both hands in a gesture of surrender. Hotch turns and joins the others on the porch.
The entry is quiet, orderly and by the book. The radio channel is open now, and everything spills out into the air between the four of them. The Ambassador's eyes are clenched, and her lips are moving in silent prayer, her fingers moving as though holding an invisible rosary. JJ is watching the sound wave representation on the computer screen, and Garcia is watching Dave. He turns from her gaze and stares at the cabin, imagining their movements as they go through each room, as each different voice calls, "Clear!"
"What's that smell?" from a voice he doesn't know comes across seconds before Morgan says with some urgency, "There's a basement."
Fuck. Basements are a nightmare in a hostage situation. They can be dark, have places to hide, house all kinds of nasty surprises. The victim could be alive when you start down the stairs and dead by the time you get to the bottom. Morgan calls "FBI!" and there's a woman's cry (Dave heart jumps, but he's not sure if it's in fear or hope) and the sound of ten people thundering down a set of stairs.
"Jesus." Another voice he doesn't know.
Then Morgan speaks calmly, and Dave can picture him, arm extended, weapon drawn, still trying to appear non-threatening. "Drop the knife, ma'am."
"No. No!" It's a woman's voice. Dave doubts he would recognize Andrea Benton's voice if he heard it again, but he knows this doesn't sound the same as the reserved, elegant woman he'd met almost two years ago. This voice barely sounds human.
"Mrs. Benton?" Morgan must receive some confirmation that it is indeed Andrea Benton he's speaking to. "Mrs. Benton, hurting Emily isn't going to bring your son or your husband back."
"She's alive." JJ's voice is shaking and so are Ambassador Prentiss's hands.
"No! You don't understand. She's evil." There's something that sounds like a sob, but Dave doesn't know if it's from the Benton woman or from Emily.
"I knew...in Italy, I knew she was a bad influence. The things she made Matthew do! I pretended not to know, but I knew! I knew!"
"Mrs. Benton." Hotch's voice firm, unemotional. "Put down the knife."
"See? See? She has you all fooled. Under a spell." There's a fervor that borders on hysteria in the woman's voice. "I thought, I thought---I made a mistake...I thought she was just bad. I didn't know she was evil, didn't know she was a demon." Her voice shakes and Dave's sure he can hear rasping breathing and the rustle of an FBI jacket against a bullet-proof vest. "But then she let her evil into Matthew, and the demon killed him and then it ate at Tom...whispered in his ear and made him doubt himself." She cries out, voice anguished. "It made him commit the one unforgivable sin." She lets out a wracking sob. "She killed Matthew, and she sent Tom to Hell. She's a demon, evil. I can't let her stay...she has to go back to Hell."
"Mrs. Benton, I don't want to hurt you." Morgan's voice is gentle, almost pleading. "Please put down the knife."
"No!" There's another cry, Dave thinks it must be from Emily, then Andrea Benton screams and there are at least two gunshots.
Dave reaches blindly for the door handle, but it doesn't budge.
"Suspect down!"
"Rossi! You have to wait for Hotch to give the signal." JJ's voice is very far away, but Dave looks up at her and it occurs to him that Hotch has used the protective locks on the back doors.
There's a riot of noise over the radio, including the call for the ambulance and a request for a second bus.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" He yells and reaches for his weapon, briefly considering shooting the window out.
"Calm down." JJ stops him before he can use his gun to break the glass. She looks stricken, upset and a little afraid. "Emily is alive. Andrea Benton is down."
Then he hears Emily's voice, weak and shaky. "Take a picture."
Hotch, incredulous, asks, "What?"
"Before you cut the ropes...take a picture." He hears her swallow. "To prove it's a clean shoot."
"JJ," Hotch says, "let Dave out. The rest of you stay put."
The locks thump open, and he's out of the car and up on the porch as the ambulance pulls into the yard. The cabin is picture perfect, something meant to give the feel of rustic, but modern and decorated with gleaming wood and overstuffed chairs. Though instead of some designer fragrance from Yankee candle, there's the scent of burning hair and seared flesh.
Instinct leads him straight to the stairs and down to Emily.
She's sitting on the basement floor, supported by Morgan while Hotch works at cutting the ropes around her wrists. Her face is bruised; different shades of red and purple cover both her cheeks and surround her left eye. Her lips are cracked and bleeding. Her hair has been...cut is the wrong word...hacked off seems to describe it best; it's different lengths all over her head, scraggly and uneven. There's a thin ribbon of blood trickling down her neck and a blackened spot on her blouse that appears to be stuck to blackened skin beneath.
The ropes give, and she takes a shaky breath as she flexes her wrists. Rope burns are red and angry against her fair skin. She looks up as the EMTs clamber down the stairs with the stretcher and sees him standing there. "Hey."
He swallows, hoping to push the lump in his throat away, but there's no room for it, his chest is too full of his heart, so the word comes out raspy and shaky when he replies, "Hey."
"Sorry I missed dinner." Her smile is weak, but she holds up her wrists. "I got tied up."
Then he's on the floor with her, gathering her close, but carefully. He meant to comfort her, but she's the one whispering "It's okay, it's okay," as he cries in to what's left of her hair, and Hotch quietly guides everyone away from their intimate little huddle.
TBC...